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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090417">Until we meet again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousOtter/pseuds/AnonymousOtter'>AnonymousOtter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bittersweet, Character Death, Claude von Riegan-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, MariClaude if you squint enough, Post-Canon, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), School Reunion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:01:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,363</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090417</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousOtter/pseuds/AnonymousOtter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Separated by duty and life, the Golden Deer reunite once more in Garreg Mach under tragic circumstances.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Golden Deer Students &amp; Claude von Riegan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I get sad every time I think about Claude leaving the Golden Deer at the end of Verdant Wind. Since I'm a masochist, I decided to make it extra sad.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>1186</em> </strong>
</p><p>The feast was exactly as they imagined it: grandiose and unforgettable. No one knew where Claude had managed to find so much food in the middle of a war, nor when exactly he had convinced minstrels and musicians to play for their party. It was as if he had been planning this feast for a long time, as if the only ending he ever envisioned for this war was their triumphal victory.</p><p>While the maids and the cooks were busy preparing the food and organising the tables, Claude reunited the Golden Deer one last time in the Cardinals Room to present what he had in mind for the future. He announced them that he would renounce his title of Duke and withdraw from his position as the head of the Alliance. Lorenz would take his place. The former Kingdom and Empire would be entrusted to Byleth, who would now take the title of Queen. He counted on them to work hand in hand to ensure harmony and unity in this new Fódlan, to promote and spread his message of peace and tolerance across the lands. As for him, he would take his leave early in the next morning to do his part far away from Fódlan, on the other side of the Throat. He never alluded to his eventual return one day.</p><p>They all knew Claude wasn’t from Fódlan, and the possibility that he would return to where he came from almost ten years ago had always been there, at the back of their mind, but the news still hit them harder than they would admit. Still, as always, they accepted his plan with little objection. Neither Claude’s personal feelings–whatever they were–nor theirs had a place when it came to give birth to this dream of his that they all vowed to fight for.</p><p>And so, Claude became the honoured guest of their feast, both for his exploits on the battlefield against Nemesis and because it was his last-minute farewell party. The girls took turns to dance with him in the way they liked it: chaotic and without a hint of delicacy. They ate plenty and laughed, recounting stories from when they were young students at the Academy. Victories and hardships, laughers and tears; they had been through it all together. Claude’s journey back home was a long one, but it was not strong enough of an argument to convince him to go to bed early. Neither of them slept at all, that night.</p><p>They said goodbye from the great bridge that separated the cathedral from the rest of the monastery when the first lights of dawn appeared on the horizon. They all cried, even if Lorenz pretended he did not. Only Byleth and Claude kept a cool face; no one would have expected otherwise.</p><p>“Until we meet again!” Claude shouted at them as his wyvern took off, and they shouted back words of encouragement and waved their hands with enthusiasm until he was far away.</p><p>Claude turned around after a while, when the Monastery was already far behind him but still within reach for his eyes to see. They had all left, with the sole exception of two distinctive silhouettes still standing there in the morning sun. Byleth, he would recognise among a million and, nestled against her side, the unmissable white hair of Lysithea.</p><p>He waved at them, but he was already too far away for them to notice.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>Claude’s return to Almyra was more grandiloquent than he had expected. News of his exploits had reached the capital before him, and even his greatest detractors had to keep a low profile and refrain from acting up against him. The rumours spread fast: they said that Prince Khalid had returned, and that he was not the cry-baby he used to be. He was a warrior and a conqueror now, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he had returned to take back what he considered his.</p><p>Claude had been away for so long, though, he knew he could not afford to act recklessly. He would have to make this country his again, to relearn about their ways and their peculiarities. To earn back his parents’ and the people’s trust. From that day on, he joined every council, no matter how trivial the agenda. He was but a silent observer at first, sitting in the corner of the room and taking notes. But slowly, they started to see the value of his insight and of his experience fighting a war and ruling a country abroad. They asked for advices or just for his opinion and eventually, he joined them around the table. It was only the matter of a year before he had a say in every decision taken by the King.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>
  <strong><em>1189</em> </strong>
</p><p>Claude took the throne on the year of his twenty-seventh birthday. The King was old and he had been sick for years; his death took no one by surprise. Claude followed the procession under a ruthless sun with the rest of the royal family, the perfume of incense and uncertainty floating in the air. As the youngest son, he did not belong at the head of the cortege, but in the crowd all eyes were on him, and him only. They watched him as he walked on the dirt, sweaty and red from the heat but still standing tall and proud, and the words they murmured and that he could not distinguish sounded like the buzz of a thousand insects.</p><p>He didn’t feel anything in particular. If he loved his father, they were never all that close. The time they were given since his return to Almyra was not enough to really close the distance that existed between them, one created by years spent apart. Claude had learnt from a young age how emotions could be used against you as the most terrifying weapons, and so he made sure nothing could show through his face. No sadness, no pain and, more importantly, no enthusiasm either for the things to come. Yet, everyone knew that at the end of the period of mourning, Claude would be the one with the most serious claims to the throne. His eyes went astray to his brothers walking before him, encircling his father’s coffin like vultures as the cortege made its way to the tomb. His heart ached for his mother, who these days didn’t look like the proud and strong woman he remembered and admired so much as a kid. He thought that maybe, it was time for him to protect her.</p><p>To take the throne in Almyra meant you had to prove yourself worthy of it. The country valued strength and prowess in battle and so, as tradition wanted, thirty days after the King was buried, the men who wanted to try their chance were to show their abilities in single combat. In modern Almyra, this did not necessarily mean the encounter was a death match, but the candidates’ pride would often lead them there.</p><p>They were five to try their luck that day. One of them, of course, was Claude. Then three honourable generals who had travelled the country to make it on time, and whom he had no issue taking down. They would prove to be great allies in his ranks. His last opponent was one of his brothers. If such a situation was to be expected, Ahmed was not the most dangerous fighter nor an ambitious man, and no one would have bet a single gold coin on his victory. Rumours had it that he only showed up to honour the eldest prince, the most dangerous opponent of them all, who had succumbed a few weeks earlier to an unknown illness. He was not a warrior, but Ahmed still fought like a lion. He did not retreat and did not surrender and eventually, Claude’s blade found its way right through his heart. It was a price he was always prepared to pay, but it still saddened him. And this is how, his hands tainted by his brother’s blood, Claude became Khalid, King of Almyra.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>Ever since his return to Almyra, even when he was still no more than an ambitious prince, Claude worked to strengthen the relationships with the new United Kingdom of Fódlan. Those he was most regularly in contact with were Byleth, Lorenz and Marianne, who all occupied strategical and political positions that warranted they would discuss on a regular basis. His correspondences with Lorenz and Marianne were mostly kept to a professional level, talking about trade routes and border controls, but those with Byleth, more frequent, were often of the personal kind. Claude wasn’t in direct contact with the other former members of the Golden Deer, and most information he learnt about their whereabouts he got through Byleth. She tried her best to maintain the bond that existed between them, but there was only so much a single person could do when all parties involved were spread across two continents.</p><p>Claude frequently asked his friend Balthus to make the journey between the two countries with armed men to help secure peace in Fódlan, where the situation was as stable as you would expect after such a terrible war. His missions over, Balthus always came back to Almyra with news of Derdriu, of Garreg Mach and of Hilda, who remained one of his closest friends. Still, Claude himself never returned there, not after the last remnants of the war were but a bad memory; not even after he was crowned King. When he took the throne, he only asked Byleth to spread the word in a falsely formal letter that was adorned by his new coat of arms and signed by his real name.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>
  <strong><em>1191</em> </strong>
</p><p>The news reached Almyra on a fine Friday morning. They came in the same fashion they always did, in a missive lost among dozen others, piled up on Claude’s desk. It was so banal and harmless in appearance the King couldn’t have suspected the words written inside would cut him like a blade.</p><p>Lysithea had died.</p><p>The letter said not much more than that, and it was accompanied by a simple note of condolences written by Byleth, who had addressed him the mail directly. It was dated from more than two weeks ago. Claude realised he couldn’t have attended the funerals even if he had wanted to.</p><p>Lysithea was only two years younger than him and if he liked to tease her like an annoying brother, he always held a profound respect for her intelligence and her stubbornness. Those were qualities he valued in people, maybe because he shared them as well. He knew, of course, about her condition. Her disease. She confessed it to him one night, years ago in the middle of the war, when neither she nor he could find sleep.</p><p>Claude read those words again and again and for a moment, the world around him stopped in tracks. He tried to recall where he was standing two years ago, when he was her age, and it took him back to his father’s burial.</p><p>He did not attend to his royal duties, that day.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>“I sent a condolence letter to her parents, what else do you want me to do?”</p><p>Balthus drank his ale with a faint hope alcohol would appease his fury. To no avail.</p><p>“Go see her!” he yelled.</p><p>He slammed his pint against the small engraved table, spilling liquid all over it. Claude crooked an eyebrow in response, hoping this wouldn’t leave a scratch.</p><p>“She’s dead Balthus,” he said. “Staring at a tomb will not change that.”</p><p>“She was our friend! You never even went back to Fódlan, did you?”</p><p>Balthus could be reliable and efficient enough both as a friend and as an ally, but when it came to the matters of the heart, he was an annoying man. Claude’s patience seemed to grow shorter when he was around.</p><p>“Turns out ruling a country takes time,” he snapped back.</p><p>“Oh, cut it out with that bullshit! No doubt you can dupe clueless nobles, but you’re not fooling me!”</p><p>Here he was again, with his patronising tone… What with people older than him treating him like a child…?</p><p>“You weren’t there for the Prof’s coronation! You weren’t there when Hilda and Lorenz got married! And you weren’t there for their kiddo’s birth! You are supposed to be his godfather, remember? And now, you won’t even visit Lysithea!”</p><p>Claude let out a clear, exasperated sigh, just to make sure his friend would get the message. If the temptation to just throw Balthus out of his private apartments was great, it was far from the first time they clashed like this and he knew better than trying.</p><p>“Eh, stop,” he said with an annoyed voice. “You are not allowed to talk to me that way! I’m your King, you know.”</p><p>“King, my ass. You are a brat.”</p><p>Claude gave up. There was no reasoning with that man. He pouted and collapsed on the table without an ounce of dignity. His fingers played with the condensation on his glass that he had yet to start drinking.</p><p>“It’s been years,” he murmured. “How do I even start to explain all of … that.”</p><p>He made a vague gesture towards the room they were in. Over the years spent in Almyra, Claude had learnt to appreciate the place with a new eye. The palace that used to be full of bad memories had become the cradle of his new world and he changed the place so it would fit his needs better. Notably, he moved his private apartments near the library, in what used to be simple offices. It was a quiet place overlooking the gardens, barely exposed to the sun and cool all year long. Some said it didn’t befit a King, but Claude didn't care. He was never one to conform.</p><p>He swallowed a mouthful of his beer and grimaced. This Fódlanese brew was way too sweet.</p><p>“You <em>really </em>are a brat, Khalid, you know that? And since when do you care about what people think of you anyway?”</p><p>Claude didn’t answer this time, his gaze absent, fixed on nothing.</p><p>“Let’s organise something in Garreg Mach,” Balthus said. His tone has changed. It was softer this time, gentler. “I can find you an excuse if you want.”</p><p>Claude looked at him and all he read on his face was genuine concern. He let out a sigh.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>Balthus’ excuse was the five-year anniversary of the end of the war, but the dates didn’t really match and the year itself didn’t make it anything worth celebrating either. Claude didn’t protest. Whatever the motive, it would always be obvious for everyone involved that this was just an excuse to see each other anyway.</p><p>They sent missives to all of those they could reach directly: Byleth, Lorenz, Hilda and Marianne. Claude asked Byleth to contact the other members of the Golden Deer he hadn’t kept contact with since the end of the war. The rendezvous was fixed for two months later. Some answers, like Hilda’s, were casual and friendly. Others like Ignatz’ felt like they were treating more of a political encounter than a stupid reunion between old comrades. But regardless, they all responded to his invitation and all agreed to meet up. All but Leonie. Her invitation was left with no answer.</p><p>Balthus and Claude reached Derdriu by the sea. Their visit was not supposed to be official and it was more discreet that way. Years ago, the only boats making connections between Almyra and Fódlan were for trade. If you wanted to travel between the countries, you had to bribe a captain and travel down in the hold with other immigrants and rats as your sole company. Claude, his mother before him, and many other Almyrans knew the way. Nowadays, regular boats allowed everyone to move freely between the countries in relative comfort.</p><p>They reached the capital at the end of the afternoon and quickly made their way to the palace. Claude hid his face as much as possible, though he wasn’t sure people would recognise him anyway. Seeing faces from all over the world ambulating in Derdriu’s streets put him in high spirits. The two men separated at the main gates. Balthus spent half of his time in Fódlan and most of it in Derdriu; saluting the Queen wasn’t more of a priority than going to his favourite bar. As far as he was concerned, his job was done.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>“So the letters were true, you really haven’t changed at all, Teach.”</p><p>It really took him back, to see Byleth in her black gown, crown on her head but mostly unchanged despite the passing years. King Khalid felt like Claude again.</p><p>“But you sure did, Claude. It’s nice to see you. You’ve grown a lot.”</p><p>She embraced him and he was surprised by how bold and expressive she had become. While he could feel it through her letters, it was more obvious in person.</p><p>“Not in height, I’m afraid.” He chuckled. “And some would say neither in spirits.”</p><p>She separated from him and smiled.</p><p>“Come with me, let’s have a cup of tea.”</p><p>She led him to her apartments. It was funny to see her act like a guide when he used to sleep in that exact same room years ago. Of course he knew the way. She had prepared a table on her balcony with a view of the sea, complete with a teapot, biscuits and sweets.</p><p>They sat down and stayed silent for a while. Byleth observed him with her piercing green eyes, as she always used to do.</p><p>“Look at you, Claude: all grown-up and kingly,” she teased. “The beard suits you well.”</p><p>“Thanks for the compliments, my friend. I’m trying to look the part.” He scratched his chin sheepishly.</p><p>“And is there a Queen to go with that King? One you failed to mention in your letters…?” Byleth asked with a mischievous smile.</p><p>“Hey now! Careful or you will start to sound like Nader!”</p><p>“Like Nader?” She laughed. “Not like your mother?”</p><p>“My mother couldn’t care less about my sentimental life… And honestly… For now, it is not a priority anyway. It’s not like I intend to build a dynasty.”</p><p>Claude was nearing thirty years old. He was so busy ruling Almyra and burning the midnight oil he had not seen the years fly by. When your dreams are so big, there isn’t much place left for anything, nor anyone else.</p><p>“What about you Teach? Someone you fancy?”</p><p>He winked and she shrugged.</p><p>“Not really. But as far as I can tell, I have time,” she answered, pointing at her uncanny green hair.</p><p>They laughed lightly. It felt good, to sit there together like they used to long ago, having small talks and worrying about nothing. Claude’s feelings for Byleth never changed over the years, no matter how far apart they were. He still valued her as his friend, confidant and equal. He was glad to see that it was the same for her, that even if they had not seen each other in the flesh for five years, it was as if they had never been apart for more than a day.</p><p>Because Byleth knew Claude already drank plenty at home, she had not prepared his favourite tea. Instead, she had brewed Crescent-Moon tea, a nod to Claude’s lineage. Coincidentally, it was also Lysithea’s favourite, not that Claude would have known about it. Yet, when he recognised the variety, he looked at the content of his cup with an unveiled sadness on his face.</p><p>“Teach, be honest. Do you think it’s a bad idea to come back like this?”</p><p>“No,” she answered bluntly.</p><p>He ignored her.</p><p>“It’s been five years… I never really tried to recontact them and suddenly, Lysithea dies and I want to see them again…”</p><p>“Those you’ve kept contact with know how hard you are working,” she said. “And the others love you enough to understand whatever shenanigans you’re putting them through.”</p><p>Claude was sure it wasn’t intentional, but her words made him feel guiltier somehow, as if he was ungrateful for their affection.</p><p>“Do you think Leonie will come? She never responded, you know.”</p><p>“Well, I just know for sure she received the invitation, I got it delivered by one of my men. We’ll see on the due date, won’t we? There’s no need to worry for now.”</p><p>He nodded in silence. After all these years, Byleth was still his voice of reason. Her calm demeanour could appease his biggest worries. He bit into a cookie to distract his mind and it was way too sweet for him. He pushed it aside.</p><p>“I had a room prepared for you in the West wing. There’s food, too. You should go rest for now,” Byleth said.</p><p>He did feel sore from the trip, and so he accepted her proposition.</p><p>“Oh, and before you leave,” Byleth added, “Marianne asked me to tell you she’s going for a ride tomorrow morning at eight o’clock. She would be happy to have you with her.”</p><p>“Marianne…?”</p><p>“She’s been staying in Derdriu for the past year,” Byleth added as Claude made his way to the door. “It’s easier for her since she’s very active in the Council.”</p><p>He simply nodded. He did not expect to see her so quickly.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>Unlike Byleth, Marianne had changed a lot. It wasn’t much of a surprise, though, as Claude could already tell by her letters. Over the years, she had turned into a sharp politician and she was one of his favourite interlocutors when it came to such matters – Lorenz be damned.</p><p>She was already installed on her horse and ready to leave when Claude arrived at the stables ten minutes late. She was wearing white, thigh riding pants and an immaculate pair of black boots. Her blue jacket embroidered with complex, golden patterns complimented her figure nicely. As usual, her hair was intricately braided. She almost dismounted when she saw him arrived.</p><p>“Oh. Your Majesty. Good morning. I am sorry, I was not expecting you any more…”</p><p><em>Way to say I’m late</em>, Claude thought.</p><p>“Marianne, none this ‘Your Majesty’ stuff between us, will you?” he answered with a cocky smile. “It’s nice to see you.”</p><p>She smiled back at him.</p><p>“It’s nice to see you too, Claude. Or should I call you Khalid, now?”</p><p>He laughed lightly.</p><p>“Whatever floats your boat, really,” he said as he tried to mount the horse she had prepared for him. He was more used to wyverns, these days.</p><p>“Claude, then. I’m used to it.”</p><p>She was funny in her own way, Marianne. Always so polite on the surface, her letters were written in the most elegant style. When Claude suddenly revealed his identity and his new title, she swiftly shifted her tone accordingly and never questioned him. But Claude knew she was curious. Marianne, more than anyone else in Fódlan, knew about his past and his inner struggles. It was their little secret, their shared burden they never really spoke of but still carried together all the same.</p><p>Chatting with her as they reached the beach, he realised why they never really spoke of personal matters in their letters: there was no need to. The confidence displayed in their words told enough about their personal growth.</p><p>“It would be nice to do this more often,” Marianne said after a while. “Under happier circumstances.” She stopped her horse and turned to face the ocean. Claude came closer to her.</p><p>“How was it?” he risked. “Lysithea’s funerals?”</p><p>“As you would expect.” Marianne sighted. “Maybe I should not say that but… We were all aware Lysithea did not have long to live, and she knew it as well. She had the opportunity to say farewell to everyone before she passed away. I want to believe she was happy until the very end.”</p><p>Marianne’s voice was calm and steady. She looked at Claude and saw his eyes lost in the distance, his expression soft and almost vulnerable.</p><p>“Everyone deals differently with grief, Claude,” she said as if she could read his mind. “Lysithea would understand as well.”</p><p>Claude had helped Marianne in the past. He taught her how to stand for herself and to be proud of who she was, no matter her difference. He told her how her suffering and pain were not a fatality but something she could grow from, turn into a strength. And now, facing the sun and sitting proudly on her grey horse, she looked like an accomplished young woman. For a second, he felt tiny and insignificant beside her.</p><p>Byleth was right; Marianne knew better than to judge him. Despite the years, it remained a strange feeling, to know that he was loved and trusted unconditionally. It appeased his mind a little for the reunion to come.</p><p>But wasn’t Marianne a special case, after all? Would the others welcome him all the same after all these years? And what would happen if Leonie never showed herself?</p><p>Instead of dwelling on what could be, Claude decided to focus on the cool wind blowing through his hair and on the waves crashing on the beach. Only time would tell if his fears were well founded.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, this was supposed to be a short one but it ended up being pretty long... So I decided to make it two chapters. </p><p>Chapter 2 is mostly written, but also mostly dialogs... and dialogs are a pain. Editing it might take a while, but hopefully not too long. Thank you for reading and see you next time!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Garreg Mach Monastery was eternal. It was rebuilt after the war and some parts were repurposed in the process, but all in all it was always the same familiar place. It became a school again shortly after Byleth was crowned, though not one where you could learn the intricate art of taking a life. Politics and tactics were still taught but the focus was now put on culture, international relationships, history, mathematics, philosophy, and arts. The idea was mostly Claude’s: long ago, his own ancestors worked hard to create something similar in his birthplace, and he liked to tell whoever wanted to hear it that it was thanks to the time he spent at the Great Academy of Almyra as a child that he was so cultivated and curious.</p><p>It was decided that Garreg Mach would keep its traditional three houses, but since there were no countries anymore but the United Kingdom Fódlan, their members were now drawn among all students at the beginning of the year. The idea was to create a bond between them regardless of their status, origin, or religion. Thanks to Claude’s generous donations, the library got expanded and moved to what used to be the Knights of Seiros’ quarters. Hilda personally handled the creation of the art and craft department, where she taught a handful of times a year.</p><p>Claude, Byleth and Marianne arrived early in the morning to make sure everything would be ready on time for the reunion. Byleth made sure the place would be theirs alone for the whole week—she was the voice of the Church and the head of the state, not even Seteth could complain when she wanted something. The old walls of the monastery were mostly empty save for them, some attendants, and a few pilgrims.</p><p>The two women crossed the entrance swiftly, Claude trailing behind and humming happily, delighted to be back to this place that forged his destiny. There was no doubt for him the time he spent in Garreg Mach was probably a more lukewarm experience than for most students—he never managed to feel safe here, not really—but with time his memories of these days were mostly happy, if not a bit nostalgic. The circumstances of his return, of course, were not helping matters. He had kept his mouth shut ever since they entered the monastery grounds. Every shadow seemed to dissimulate familiar faces, every gush of wind to carry the sound of voices from another time.</p><p>Claude stopped for a while in front of the new mural painted in the main hall. He had heard about it before, of course. The preliminary sketches were sent to him at some point years ago, and he remembered he had to approve the composition chosen by the artist. In person, though, the final result was something else entirely.</p><p>Five metres tall for twelve in length, the painting pictured him and the Alliance nobles reunited around the roundtable and signing a peace treaty. To his left, the artist depicted Nader—Claude snorted—and on the opposite side, his white wyvern. Were also pictured people from all around the world that Claude could identify by their clothing: Sreng, Almyra, Fódlan.</p><p>Those were Claude’s dreams, plastered against a wall in what was now the heart of this nation that was also his in everything but titles. He felt a great deal of pride with an aftertaste of embarrassment. Nothing depicted there ever happened in that fashion. Peace and treaties were all negotiated with the help of letters, ambassadors, and mediators. Not very flashy nor impressive considering the task at hand, even though he still intended to celebrate their accomplishments properly in the next years, when a more definitive border agreement would be signed. He gave one last look at the painting and sighted. He trotted to catch up Marianne and Byleth, who had now reached the gardens.</p><p>Hilda was already there with Lorenz when they reached the Golden Deer’s classroom. True to herself, she embraced them all with the same intensity, as if she had not seen any of them for decades.</p><p>“It’s good to see you!” she said in her usual high-pitched voice. She lingered a bit longer with Claude, taking the time to appreciate his presence again. He was her partner in crime, her ace. Life was a bit dull without him around.</p><p>Lorenz coughed at the display and all eyes turned to him.</p><p>“I hope your journey was safe,” he said. “Especially you, <em>King Khalid of Almyra</em>. It would have been a shame to lose you to some unfortunate event. Like a shipwreck.”</p><p>Even with his best efforts, Claude couldn’t ignore the disdain in his voice. But upon further reflexion, he decided it wasn’t disdain. It was resentment. That was to be expected. Claude cleared his throat and offered him his hand.</p><p>“<em>Count Gloucester</em>, it’s also a pleasure to see you,” he teased with a wink. Lorenz couldn’t hide a smirk as he took his hand and shook it.</p><p>“Let us switch back to <em>Claude</em> and <em>Lorenz</em>, shall we?” he answered.</p><p>“Look at them, Professor,” Hilda cooed. “They never stop bickering, but they cannot live without each other. Why are men like that?”</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>Raphael and Ignatz arrived a few hours later, when the tables were already prepared for the feast in the dining hall. Claude gasped with joy when he saw them cross the doorstep. </p><p>Claude wondered if he would have been able to recognise Ignatz had he bumped into him somewhere unexpected. Ignatz was truly becoming more and more handsome with every passing year. His signature glasses were still planted on his nose, but he now wore a carefully trimmed beard that highlighted his sharp features. Claude tapped his shoulder amicably.</p><p>“I saw your painting in the main hall!” he said.</p><p>“Oh.” Ignatz looked surprised. “And what did you think?” His voice was much lower, too, Claude noted.</p><p>“It’s a marvel. Especially the way you painted Marianne,” Claude teased.</p><p>Ignatz blushed slightly. This would never not be entertaining.</p><p>“Well, I’m happy you like it, Khalid. I worked hard on it.”</p><p>Claude took a step back and stared at him wide-eyed.</p><p>“You can still call me Claude … but Ignatz, I’m impressed,” he said. “You are the only one so far who managed to pronounce my name properly so far.”</p><p>Ignatz’ blush intensified.</p><p>“Well… Uh… It’s because I learnt some Almyran, actually.”</p><p>“Did you?” He was feeling happier by the minute and he was having a hard time hiding his enthusiasm. This was all too good to be true.</p><p>“Yes, here, at Garreg Mach. I travelled a bit to Almyra as well.”</p><p>“What? And how come you didn’t visit me?”</p><p>“Well, you are a king now…” Ignatz answered, readjusting his glasses to hide his embarrassment. “It would be improper to just barge in.”</p><p>“You cannot be serious! I’m still your good old Claude!” he tapped his chest. “Nothing has changed!”</p><p>“You’ll have to admit the beard makes you a bit intimidating, Claude,” Raphael said.</p><p>He had uncharacteristically stayed silent so far. Claude turned to look at him and he swore the guy grew even bigger than the last time they had met.</p><p>“Raphael, and what about you?”</p><p>“I remember you offered me a place in Almyra, Claude, I really do. But I have a business to take care of now. But I would be glad to visit you, still.”</p><p>“Oh, yes, Teach told me about your inn. Seems like a nice place.”</p><p>“It is. And we’re getting bigger. Leonie helped me finish the extension last moon.”</p><p>“Leonie.”</p><p>His high spirits left him immediately. She still wasn’t there.</p><p>“Do you think she will come?” Claude asked.</p><p>“Why wouldn’t she?”</p><p>He sighted.</p><p>“She never answered to my invitation… I wonder if she resents me, maybe.”</p><p>“Claude, I’ll be honest with you,” Lorenz said. “We may not look like it, but we all resent you. A little, that is.”</p><p>“Do you?”</p><p>“You said ‘no more secrets between us’,” Hilda imitated in his voice, “and right after that you dropped the ‘King of Almyra’ card. You can understand we’re a little mad.”</p><p>“Oh, but it’s nothing more than that,” Ignatz added quickly.</p><p>“Yes,” Marianne continued. “We’ve known you for a long time now. And I think we all agree that this world that you have created was worth the secrets.” She flushed a little. Marianne had always been more invested into his dreams that anyone else.</p><p>“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Raphael said.</p><p>“Yes, I think we are all on the same page here, Leader Man,” Hilda added with a wink. She patted his back amicably before whispering in his ear: “That being said, Leonie is positively pissed off with you.”</p><p>Claude grimaced.</p><p>“She did say some … unpleasant things about you during Lysithea’s burial,” Lorenz added.</p><p>“She is just a bit impulsive,” Marianne corrected in a vain attempt to lighten up the mood. “I am sure she will come.”</p><p>“I should have written more.” Claude sighted. “The first year, I wrote almost every month… But then, there were the uproars in the Empire. Then in the Kingdom… Then <em>everywhere</em>… And then … things happened in Almyra, and it became a mess as well…”</p><p>“Stop trying to justify yourself.”</p><p>Those words came from a new, yet familiar voice. Their heads all turned toward the entrance. Leonie was staying there, a bow in her hand.</p><p>She looked fierce, more even than she did during the war. She was wearing her ginger hair in a high ponytail and freckles speckled across her nose and exposed shoulders. The quiver on her back and her familiar gloves were all Claude needed to see to figure out she had something very specific on her mind.</p><p>“Surely you are motivated for a quick hunt, my good King,” she said.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>Claude crouched as smoothly as his clothes would allow it. He had ditched his heavy jacket and cape in the monastery, but his pants remained too stiff to actually move like he would have wanted to.</p><p>He and Leonie didn’t speak at all on their way to this bosquet below the monastery. They didn’t need more meat for their lunch, and it was obvious neither of them was actually in the mood for hunting, but Leonie’s real intents were clear enough. She wanted to talk with him, and him alone, and probably not in a friendly fashion. For now, though, all they were doing was following a big rabbit.</p><p>After walking around for a while, the animal had settled at the foot of an old oak a dozen metres away from the duo and was cleaning its face with its small paws. Claude carefully bent his bow and released an arrow. The shot was clean but a bit too short, and the arrow got stuck into the ground right at the animal’s feet. The rabbit promptly ran away.</p><p>Claude let out a curse and scratched the back of his head. Leonie, who was crouched beside him, stood up and walked where their prey used to be. She pulled the unfortunate arrow off the ground and gave it back to Claude without saying a word.</p><p>“I’m not used to Fódlanese bows anymore.” The excuse was a half-truth; it had also been a while since he last practised on a moving target. Leonie crooked a brow.</p><p>“It’s not over yet,” she said.</p><p>She followed the direction in which their prey had run away, observing the ground to look for tracks. Claude followed suit at a safe distance. After a while they found the creature again in a small clearing. The sun was high in the sky and reverberated on the rabbit’s light-grey fur, making it an obvious target in the middle of all the green. Claude’s pride was a bit wounded from before and so he decided it was time to restore his honour. He reached for another arrow in his quiver and started to adjust his posture when Leonie smoothly lowered his arm with her hand. She wanted to have a try as well.</p><p>She released an arrow but the rabbit, probably still startled from before, anticipated her shot and ran away again in zigzag. This time around, though, the poor creature couldn’t escape its fate. After a few metres running left and right, it got struck right in the neck and died on the spot. Surprised, Leonie turned around to observe Claude. His bowstring was still vibrating.</p><p>“I see you are still quite the marksman,” she said.</p><p>“Well,” Claude said as he moved to retrieve his arrow and the poor creature attached to it, “I’m still the same person, you know. Nothing more, nothing less.”</p><p>He leaned down to take the rabbit and when he rose again, Leonie had moved closer to him. She looked right into his eyes.</p><p>“Why didn’t you come back before?”</p><p>There was no escape this time around, no way to brush it off and change the subject.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” He was prepared to hear that question way before he even reached Derdriu’s shore, but that was the only thing silver-tongued Claude managed to grumble between his teeth.</p><p>“Answer me, Claude!”</p><p>Her words reverberated on the cliffs and startled some birds, but her eyes weren’t filled with fury nor rage. She looked pained instead.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Claude repeated. He wished he could say more, he really did; but him, who used to be so good with words, was suddenly having trouble to find the proper ones.</p><p>Going back to Fódlan, to Garreg Mach of all places, surrounded by these walls and faces that were familiar and yet seemed so alien, shook him to his very core. He lowered his eyes to escape Leonie’s and he looked at the rabbit in his hand, still warm but very much dead, blood sprinkling its otherwise immaculate fur. Its eyes were wide opened, fixated onto nothing. They used to hunt together, with Leonie, back in the days, both as students and later on during the war. Lysithea and Marianne always seemed a bit sad when they came back to the monastery with a rabbit or a partridge. Claude remembered that one time he sculpted a small rabbit for Lysithea’s birthday. She liked cute things.</p><p>“She waited for you to come back, Claude,” Leonie said. “She wouldn’t admit it, but she waited. We all waited!”</p><p>“I know!” he yelled. He was exasperated more at himself, he knew, than at her and her accusatory tone. He was never one to shout, never one to lose his temper. At this moment, though, he felt like crying.</p><p>Leonie took a step back.</p><p>“I know…” Claude continued in what was almost a whisper. “We promised to write to each other, and we did… At first.”</p><p>He shook his head. “But I became complacent.”</p><p>“And you stopped writing,” Leonie said, lowering her head to try to catch his eyes.</p><p>“I did,” he admitted, nodding his head frankly.</p><p>Leonie sighted. She was obviously trying to keep her tone cool, but there was a distinct sob at the back of her throat when she continued.</p><p>“The last time I saw her, she gave me this.”</p><p>She searched something inside her jacket and took out a white envelope sealed with wax. Imprinted on it was, without a doubt, the coat of arms of the Ordelia House.</p><p>“I told her to send it to Almyra, but she said that she wanted to give it to you in person…”</p><p>A silence floated in the air. Claude gulped and he felt like he had forgotten how to breathe for a moment. Leonie took his free hand and slipped the letter between his fingers.</p><p>“She said she could trust me to do it on her behalf,” she concluded. “Do you have any idea how I felt?”</p><p>Claude looked at the envelope. He didn’t even try to hide his tremor as he put it inside his pocket.</p><p>“I was stupid,” he said, eyes still fixated on the ground. “I was in such a high, I thought we had time ahead of us. And I took it for granted. Her friendship, and yours.”</p><p>Claude always knew, almost instinctively, that if anything were to happen between the Golden Deer and him, that if things had to turn sour one day, Leonie would be the one to call him out and cut him off her life.</p><p>He had many words to describe her. Blunt. Irreverent. Harsh. It was just the way she was. He was not without shortcomings either.</p><p>“You really haven’t changed at all, Claude,” Leonie said. “Still the same, indeed. Hiding and running away.</p><p>“And still thinking that you could lose my friendship, somehow.”</p><p>She patted his shoulder lightly, then his hair. What a view it was, the Almighty King of Almyra comforted by a village girl. Claude straightened up and finally found the courage to look at her.</p><p>There was another word to describe her, he had realised. <em>Loyal</em>. He smiled.</p><p>“I will repay your trust.”</p><p>“I’ll take your words on it.” Leonie nodded. “Surely you can start by preparing our rabbit. I remember your infamous cooking skills from back then, you know. And I kind of miss them.”</p><p>“Let me warn you, I didn’t get any better. Nor at cleaning dishes either.”</p><p>She laughed and it was a relief.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>The lunch went on without any issue. When Leonie and Claude came back arm in arm, whatever tension was left quickly dissipated. Claude cooked the rabbit in the Almyran fashion—thanks god it was easy to find the right spices and vegetables nowadays. Since there obviously wasn’t enough meat for everyone, he decided to offer it to Hilda and Lorenz, as an apology for the numerous celebrations he had missed during the past years. There was more food than that, of course. Leonie, Raphael, Marianne and Byleth cooked most of it, but everyone participated, and Claude promised he would do the dishes.</p><p>This lunch that was really more of a feast, albeit not one with music and dance, drew out late into the evening, and by the time Marianne brought the cake she had prepared for dessert, it was already starting to get dark outside.</p><p>“No, thank you.” Claude waved his hand in front of the cake. “Fódlanese cakes are a bit too sweet for me.”</p><p>“Claude, may I show you something?”</p><p>Ignatz put a book on the table, right in front of Claude. He put his drink aside and opened it.</p><p>It was a sketchbook. It featured mostly statues and buildings, architectural details and animals, but from time to time, Claude could identify familiar faces. He recognised their clothes.</p><p>“Did you draw this during the war?” he asked. “It’s amazing, Ignatz!”</p><p>Ignatz blushed furiously. “Thank you.”</p><p>Claude skimmed through the pages with his eyes wide open. Most of the scenes depicted were from their everyday life. Byleth fishing in the pond. Lorenz drinking tea under the gazebo. Marianne talking to Dorte. Raphael in the queue to the dining hall. Leonie polishing her bow. Hilda painting her nails. Lysithea and him petting some cats. Other sketches were familiar in a different way, as if Ignatz had taken them directly out his own memories. Most notably, the last pages were covered with drawing from their last feast. Claude smiled fondly at the pictures.</p><p>“These are just sketches, of course,” Ignatz said, “but I thought you might want to keep them.”</p><p>“Are you serious? Yes! Yes, of co—”</p><p>He stopped mid-sentence, a new idea making its way through his brain. He stood up and slammed his hands to the dining table.</p><p>“Everyone!” he shouted. They all stopped talking and looked at him. For a second, it reminded him of when they were at war, when he made these pompous speeches to raise their spirits.</p><p>“Please, come with me to Almyra,” he blurted out.</p><p>Byleth repressed a smile when she saw the expression on Lorenz’ face.</p><p>“What? Do you mean … right now?” he asked, almost outraged.</p><p>“No, no, of course not…!” Claude added quickly. “I mean sometimes in the future. Near future. As soon as possible.</p><p>“I want you to visit my palace. It’s such a nice place, you will love it. Very different from what we have in Fódlan. Teach, you would like the gardens so much! And you could lose yourself in the library. It’s so big I put my private quarters there, you know. And I know a good spot where the light is perfect. I want Ignatz to paint us all together there.” He looked at him and smiled. “Actually, no, Ignatz has to be in this picture as well. I’ll find the best artist in the whole continent who <em>isn’t</em> Ignatz, and I’ll have him immortalise us. What do you think?”</p><p>He flashed a proud smile, but no one answered. Raphael was the one who eventually broke the awkward silence.</p><p>“Claude,” he said, “you should organise a proper Almyran feast when we come! You always talked about it, so I want to see the real thing!”</p><p>“Sure!” Claude answered, nodding his head with enthusiasm. His eyes went to Byleth, then Marianne, and finally Leonie. She smiled back at him.</p><p>“Listen,” he continued with a more serious tone, “I know I haven’t been the greatest friend these past years. I… I cannot bring Lysithea back, but I can bring us together again. I would not be where I am now if it were not for you. I wouldn’t be <em>who</em> I am either. I’ll do everything in my power to be worthy of our friendship.”</p><p>“Claude, you know you can’t exactly buy us, but I really, really appreciate the effort, you know,” Hilda said. “I’ll come if my son is invited as well. I kind of named him after you, you know…”</p><p>“And of course, I will accompany my dear family,” Lorenz added, putting a hand on Hilda’s shoulder. “Plus, I think the people of Almyra would be delighted to finally meet me. Am I preposterous to assume you have told them all about me?”</p><p>“You gotta show me those Almyran bows, Claude,” Leonie added with a wink, “Since you know, apparently they are so different from the ones we have here.”</p><p>Claude took the jest with dignity.</p><p>“Alright, alright, I’ll add ‘deadly weapons’ to your list of grievances. Anything else…? A wyvern maybe? I have a bunch to spare. Marianne?”</p><p>“I would be happy to see what sort of horse breeds you have in Almyra,” she answered, smiling.</p><p>“Can do.”</p><p>“Oh, Claude, you really are serious about this, aren’t you?” Hilda said. “Maybe I should find something else to ask.”</p><p>“A King aims to please.”</p><p>“You really will not let us forget about your crown, will you?” Lorenz sighted.</p><p>“What about you Professor?” Hilda mocked, “Is there anything you want from His Highness? I think it’s now or never.”</p><p>“He already knows he can buy me with premium fishing baits.”</p><p>They all laughed because it was true.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>The night went its way slowly. Time didn’t seem to really exist anymore in Garreg Mach. Claude told them about his last years spent in Almyra, though he still kept some of the most gruesome details to himself, as he didn’t want to sour the mood.</p><p>When it got dark enough, he led them outside and they all laid down in the gardens. The night was clear and the stars were shining brightly, so Claude showed them the Almyran constellations, those dear friends of his who knew all about his deepest secrets. He told them Almyran stories and fairy tales in the most dramatic way and if Hilda already knew some of them, she still laughed and cried all the same when he narrated the story of the White Camel.</p><p>As the night continued, Lysithea’s absence got all the more obvious. She would have liked this day as well; Marianne’s cake, Ignatz’ drawings and Claude’s stories. They all had anecdotes about her that they shared with an open heart. In the dark, sometimes it was hard to really tell if they were laughing or crying, but they were all true to themselves. They went to bed one after the other until it was just Claude, Marianne and Byleth lying down on the grass.</p><p>Marianne, on his left, rested her hand on his to catch his attention.</p><p>“When are you planning to see her?” she murmured.</p><p>Claude sighted, relishing her warmth as it was starting to get cold. “Tomorrow, probably,” he said. “So we can have the rest of the week for us. She is in Ordelia territory, isn’t she?”</p><p>“Yes. Her parents left, but Lysithea and her siblings remained there. We found it strange, but apparently it was Lysithea’s wish.”</p><p>Silence settled; she squeezed his hand a little.</p><p>“Claude… I think it would be better for you to go alone, but… I can go with you if you want. If you think you need me to, I can be there and help you.”</p><p>He turned to look at her. He was surprised by her proposition but appreciated the attention. His eyes went to her small, delicate hand intertwined with his big, callous one. It was dark but the moon cast enough light for him to see the ink on the tips her pale fingers that betrayed she had worked too hard the night before. Maybe one of the most surprising things in his life full of strange events was that he had managed to gain the trust of such a woman.</p><p>“Thank you, Marianne,” he said with a smile. He understood that she wanted to help him like he had helped her before, but it was about time he did the right thing. “I think you are right. It’s probably better if I go see her by myself.”</p><p>She nodded.</p><p>“Good,” she said. She let go of his hand and stood up. “The others say you haven’t changed, Claude, but it’s not true. You are a good man.”</p><p>She took her leave and only Byleth remained with Claude.</p><p>Byleth loved gazing at the stars, she always had. Maybe it was just something that came naturally to those who spent most of their lives on the road. She had stayed quiet during most of the day, which was not unusual of her, but she suddenly started to speak.</p><p>“When you left,” she said, “Lysithea stayed with me for a while on the bridge. She wanted to watch you fly away for as long as possible.”</p><p>“I saw you both,” Claude said, his own eyes lost in the starry sky, “but I don’t think you noticed me.”</p><p>“She was so happy for you, Claude. So happy.”</p><p>Byleth’s voice was trembling and when Claude propped himself on the elbow to look at her, he saw the tears running down her cheeks.</p><p>“Teach…”</p><p>“It’s alright, Claude. I’m fine. This is part of life.” She smiled. “Don’t worry, I will watch over them and over you. And when … when you are all gone, I will continue to watch over your dreams as well.”</p><p>He gave her the softest smile and she tapped his arm.</p><p>“Now go! Or you won’t be back before lunch tomorrow and Raphael will want to eat your share.”</p><p>He stood up in a swift motion and dusted his pants.</p><p>“Thanks, Teach,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Byleth stayed there lying on the grass long after Claude had departed, the firmament shining brightly above her. She couldn’t be bothered to stop the tears flowing from her eyes.</p><p>*~~*~~*~~*~~*</p><p>Claude reached what used to be the Ordelia territory a little before dawn. They had renounced their noble titles years ago and soon after Lysithea’s death, they left everything behind and disappeared. He dismounted near the now-abandoned mansion and made his way around the gardens. The place had only been unoccupied for a few months but without the strict maintenance necessary to keep these types of garden pristine, nature was already reclaiming its rights. He reached the bosque Lysithea had shown him years ago and made his way through the brambles and the bushes. The path was clear, but it was still dark under the trees and it was hard to see where exactly he was walking.</p><p>Finally, he reached a clearing. Lysithea was buried there, in the heart of this small forest, surrounded by her ancestors and siblings. Her tombstone was made of black marbles, engraved with golden lilies and covered by fresh flowers and various objects Claude suspected had been left by the Golden Deer on the day of her burial. Despite everything, the view was strangely peaceful.</p><p>Claude approached in silence and he sat on the grass. It was wet and cold from the dew. A strong wind could be heard blowing in the distance, but in this place protected by the trees, it was nothing more than a gentle breeze that made him shiver a little. Birds started to sing, announcing dawn.</p><p>“Hi, Lys,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner. Couldn’t find the nerve to. You know me, I’ve always been a bit of a brat.”</p><p>He stayed silent for a while, looking at the tombstone without really seeing it, sweet memories replaying in his head.</p><p>Studying late at night with him in the library, Lysithea hated it when he was starting to shake his legs and crack his knuckles. Always so loud. She hated the way he piled up books on his small table and how he would stock them in his bedroom and never return them. Always so selfish. She hated the smirk painted on his face when her stomach started to rumble from hunger, and he’d look at her with piercing eyes as she’d eat the slice of cake hidden in her small bag. Always so nosy.</p><p>But Claude always stayed until her eyes were getting too heavy for her to study anymore; he always accompanied her back to the dormitories and always watched from a distance until her door was securely closed. And no matter how annoying he could be, Lysithea was glad to have him watch over her.</p><p>Claude opened her letter. He read it carefully, lingered over every word. He wasn’t much of a believer, but when he was done, he started to talk to her about Almyra, about his dreams of his, about his vision for the future. About how he wished he could have shown it all to her. And much like the content of her letter, his words were nothing special nor grandiloquent, they were just words from one friend to another, shared between a stubborn girl and the nosy class representative who kept her safe from ghosts at night, in the old library.</p><p>When Claude was out of things to say, he reached inside his coat to find a slice of Marianne’s cake that he had wrapped into a napkin. He bit into it and it was too sweet for his taste, but he still ate it all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next thing will probably be fluff, maybe for Claudeleth week. Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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